One Night with the Sexiest Man Alive (The One 1)

er throat and he came with a strangled moan, before sitting to pull her up beside him, taking her mouth finally for the denied kiss that started all this.

“If you’d have kissed me in the first place you could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble,” he said, when they’d finished devouring each other’s mouths.

She pushed her fingers through his hair. “Where would the fun have been in that? Have I made us late?”

He squinted at the bedside clock. It was hard to care. But if they didn’t move now, it would be too risky to hit a public beach. He put his fingers to her pussy. “How quick can you come?” She was wet and swollen. He could smell her arousal and he wanted to taste it.

She groaned in complaint when he moved his hand; she’d started to grind against him. She did it again when he spread her legs and looked down at her.

“How quick can you make me come?” she said with a look that was enough to give him razor burn. It sizzled on his skin. That part where he’d figured he could play it cool with her. Monumentally bad casting.

He got her arching off the bed in a minute with slow licks through her labia and quick sucks of her engorged clitoris. And then he backed off to draw her pleasure out. It earned him a, “Bastard,” growled between clenched teeth as she drummed her heels on his ass.

The sound he wanted from her would only come when he got the wishbone of her whole clit to pulse deep inside her. He needed a combination of mouth and fingers to stimulate her vulva for that to happen. He made her thrash on the bed and right before he got what he wanted she went stiff and pushed out an exhale of shocked delight, shuddering under his hands.

Best sound in the world. Beat applause any day.

When he flopped down beside her she curled into him, her forehead on his bicep, her knees against his thigh. “You know I’m never going to be able to watch you on film again.”

“Because I made you come out of your skin?”

She rubbed her forehead on his arm. “Because you love doing it.”

“Guilty as charged.”

She came up on her elbow, face tilted in her hand. “I’m going to see you on screen and think, there’s that bastard who can make my insides ring better than I can do it myself.”

He laughed. “For a second, I thought you were going to say something mushy.”

“That’s about as mushy as I get.”

Thank fuck for that, because he might have been about to say something mushy himself, given the sight of her was enough to make him lose his sense of direction.

An hour later they were at a narrow beach called Tamarama. It was nestled between the larger Bondi and Bronte beaches, tucked inside two prominent headlands. Opal blues and greens with soft white sand, it was stunning. It was still early, but not early enough to have the place to themselves. They shared it with a dozen surfers out at the break and a scattering of sunbathers. The café was full of folk having breakfast. Rick’s double take at the first set of bikini-free boobs catching rays on the sand was almost comic.

“They don’t call this beach Glamarama for nothing,” Teela said as they trudged to the shoreline. Her bathing suit was simple, black, slicked to her curves, making her legs look impossibly longer. She bent to toss her sunglasses on a towel and the lines of her body, near enough to naked, sent his brain all the wrong signals for a public place.

He didn’t wait for Teela. Hit the water hoping the sudden cold would deal with the inappropriate erection. By the time she’d caught up to him, he had it under control. For the time it took to catch her hand, bring her body into his and kiss her salty lips.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, and since there wasn’t much swell and they were out beyond where the waves broke they could float, heads above the water easily.

“Again?” she said.

“You’re complaining?

She used those goddamn legs to squeeze him and get enough purchase on his shoulders to dump him under. Gave him the excuse to surface from under her, blowing bubbles up the length of her body and passing both hands over her breasts, before pulling her back into his arms, hands on her ass, her tight nipples pressed to his chest, her core on his cock.

“I’m not going to forget this weekend for a long time,” she said, running her index fingers over his brows.

“Is that you being mushy?” Her hair was a wet plaited rope and, there were droplets of sea on her eyelashes. He followed a stream of water cascading down her neck, covering it with his mouth, making her rub on his cock and groan. “Again?” he said.

She shoved him away, laughing, ducking under a wave and surfacing a little way off.

Teela wasn’t going to be easy to forget. He watched her flip to her back and float. What if he flew her out to meet him? Somewhere halfway? Hawaii, where he was shooting, was roughly halfway. Another weekend like this. Sun, sex. Easily doable.

He was still thinking that when a rogue wave caught him in its foaming wash, dragged him under and pinned him down on the sea floor, pummeling him with volumes of water. He came up sandy, spluttering, out of breath. He’d been dragged well outside the safety flags.

It was a useful reminder of what could happen when you got distracted. You could fucking drown.